Cruel Ties
by Eerie
Summary: Darkfic. A restless night inspires a violent meeting with one thought to be dead, and Ginji might lose his life without the help of a skilled doctor.


**Cruel Ties**

Dusk had settled hours ago, yet the night hinted some false ethereal glow, a golden haze clinging to the windless sky above Tokyo. It was strangely sleepy that night and all was quiet, even in the tireless heart of the city. Only the continuously burning streetlamps hummed as they wavered, throwing soft shadows over the streets that feared total darkness. Their vigil was ignored to all but one this night it seemed.

Ginji stared at the gently twinkling lights all around through the bedroom window of his and Ban's apartment and wondered if he would ever fall asleep. His companion had been enjoying a slumber so deep that he might have been dead, and it made Ginji all the more restless.

The blonde rested the back of his head heavily against the window and turned his dark eyes to look enviously at his retrieval partner. Ban had an arm lopped over the side of the bed, his face composed into an expression of perfect calm, his mouth open slightly to passage lulling rhythmic breaths. Ginji simply stared at him for a few long moments before he realized that sleep wouldn't come to claim him any time soon.

With straining caution, he dressed and slipped from the apartment. When he closed the door softly behind him he breathed a sigh of relief that Ban had not stirred. He wasn't sure what he would do at this hour, but it didn't matter when he reached the building doors. The night air was warm and inviting and he soon found himself walking.

There were only a few stray people on the streets he traversed, making their ways to unknown destinations. After a while he found he was getting closer to Mugenjou, and could see its height cresting higher than every other building before him. Without really thinking about it, he walked toward the fortress, studying the lights spotting it like dull jewels. He wondered who was behind those lights tonight, if they were as sleepless as he. Were MakubeX and Sakura working on some new program to hack into the fortress's forbidden secrets yet again? Or maybe Kadsuki was reading something to Juubei?

He had imagined many scenarios to explain those lights, lost in his meandering thoughts so much that he hadn't realized how far he had gone until a sliver of a moon crept out from behind the fortress like a curving thorn of light growing from the mass of peaks. He stopped in front of a seedy night club and looked at the moon for a moment, not really knowing how long he had been walking.

A man and woman stumbled out of the bar and nearly bowled him over as he stood there, oblivious. They laughed and gave him an unfeeling apology before offering him a pull from the mysterious bottle hidden behind a plain paper bag. Ginji muttered a polite decline of interest and began to walk away, their careless laughter echoing in his ears. It startled him enough to make him realize that maybe he was too tired to be out like this, and he decided to head back.

As he turned to retrace his steps, he realized that he had walked quite farther than he intended. The prospect of another long journey didn't sound appealing at all anymore, though he had no choice at this point. But just as he began to move, he was stayed by the soft rasping of his name from the pitch-black ally by a male voice. It held the last vowel for an eerie moment until it sounded as if it issued from a hollow tunnel. No, surely he had only imagined it. Who would possibly recognize him out there at such an hour? He convinced himself that his mind was playing tricks on him but began to retreat rather quickly despite.

"Wait!"

The voice was definitely real. It was louder and commanding this time and infused with unmistakable anger. Ginji didn't want to acknowledge the one it belonged to, the desire to run like a jolt of raw power quickening his muscles. But he complied and faced the direction of the voice, sifting hastily through his mind to decide whether or not he recognized it. There was something vaguely familiar about it but he couldn't place it. And he could neither immediately recognize the face that seemed to ooze from the deep shadows into the poor neon illumination of the bar's window advertisements.

The man was young, barely more than a boy; he appeared to be only a few years younger than Ginji. He wore a simple jacket above ripped blue jeans, which revealed nothing about his character save that he was probably poor. A cigarette smoldered between his thin lips, its smoke flowing across his smooth face like shredded ribbons unraveling from a spool. A bottle of liquor was clasped in one hand. Yet despite the quality of the light, his eyes glittered with comprehension, and if he was drunk it didn't show.

Ginji studied his confronter with confusion. Had he known this person? He didn't think so, but it was too dark to tell for certain. Yet it was very late and quite obvious this guy was not there to exchange pleasantries, so Ginji decided it best to come out with it straightaway. "How do you know me?"

Lifting a nimble hand to seize the cigarette, the young man sucked in a great drag. With a skilled flick of his fingers the thing was hurled into the gutter as he exhaled a veritable river of white smoke that briefly concealed his face. When the cloud dissipated, he was smiling.

"I suppose you wouldn't recognize me, yeah, it's been a while. A long, loooong time." His smile was full but entirely devoid of warmth. "Strange thing that we should meet at a place like this." He briefly looked over his shoulder toward the Infinite Fortress.

Ginji shook his head. "Sorry, but don't know you, and I need to get going." Something about the aura around that stranger crept into him and made him shiver like the harshest cold riding a winter gust. He was becoming incredibly uneasy with each passing second and knew instinctively that he had to get away from there.

The young man looked at Ginji again, his smile dissolved. "Oh but Ginji- san, you'd give up a chance to rekindle old times with an old friend? That's so cold of you." He took a step closer. "But you see, I have something for you. Something I've wanted to give you since the day you left Mugenjou, and more."

It should have interested him to a degree. But the word triggered some internal alarm, and Ginji turned to leave without a word of reply.

Suddenly the stranger bolted forward and Ginji turned defensively at the sound just as the young man lashed out with a fist aimed directly for the blonde's face. Ginji barely dodged it in time, and could feel the small gust of its passing against the tiny hairs on his cheek. He probably would not have been able to have seen it coming at all if the sudden fear that gripped him hadn't piqued his awareness.

He dodged another blow that was meant for his jaw and began to tap into the electric current flowing within him through phantom veins. But before he could release any sort of attack of his own, something shattered loudly over his head and cold fluid trickled through his hair, down his back. After the rush of cold came hot where the glass had connected with his scalp and his vision swam violently for a moment as he dropped to his knees. It seemed he would lose consciousness, but a certain foreboding sense that he would be slaughtered right there on the street should he do so came over him, and he was able to turn swiftly to avoid the boot swinging toward his head.

The stranger was smiling again, its nature so bitter it seemed that no greater malice could exist anywhere. He watched as Ginji breathed hard and put a hand to his head only to draw it back away sharply in pain, gritting his teeth at the deep red that stained his fingertips.

"Not as quick as you used to be, huh? What a fucking disappointment." The man rushed forward again without warning and slammed his fist into Ginji's right cheek.

Ginji would have hit the ground fully, but his left arm caught him hard, the cement tearing hotly into his elbow. He didn't have a chance to even move before that heavy boot struck him beneath the chin and sent him sprawling onto his back. It felt as though his already bleeding head had split open then. The urgent warmth that ran under his scalp tickled terribly beneath the rending pain. He had to strike quickly, to do something. But his body hurt so much that he could concentrate on little else. He had no recollection of ever feeling it like this.

After a few deep breaths he struggled to stand, only to be struck down again. His neck snapped back with a hot rush of electric pain and his cheek had been badly scraped. Red was running into one of his eyes.

"Please be considerate and stay put, Ginji-san." The young man reached into his pocket and extracted another cigarette, which he lit with a thoughtful expression.

"Who are you?" Ginji demanded quietly, reserving his strength to use at an opportune time as he lay against the unyielding sidewalk.

Exhaling, the young man replied, "Nobody worth remembering."

Ginji groaned and swiped some of the blood from his face. When he opened his eyes, the stranger knelt and leaned over him, practically hovering like a vulture waiting for its prize to die. With his closeness, that awful feeling of dread increased, but he could also sense the timeless suffering that this person felt. It startled Ginji enough to compel him to stay completely still.

"But you are worth remembering, aren't you?" the stranger asked, his voice softening.

The way the question was stated, the tone of the voice, there was definitely something familiar about it. Ginji squinted against the gaudy pink of the neon glow and studied the face before him more closely. It dawned on him like a knife thrust in the stomach. And truly he felt a powerful urge to vomit when he recognized his assailant.

"Y-you were de-dead!" Ginji stammered with utter disbelief.

The young man looked taken aback for a second before he leaned back rather leisurely and reflected. "Yes, I did die. For a moment. When I came back it was the most indescribable pain; I felt it everywhere. I looked for you, called out for you. You were the last thing I saw when I went down, the one I wanted to see most. But you just left me there." His head dropped to gaze stonily into Ginji's eyes before he continued. "Again, you left me. I was _alone_ and might as well have died. I hated Mugenjou after that, that isolated coldness everywhere, so much that I had to leave. Somehow, in that state bordering on death, I crawled to the outside world. Somebody found me and helped me, someone I never even heard the name of, someone probably worse off than I am now. But if it weren't for that person, I never would have survived. I don't like living on the streets like this. But the people here have been so kind, so generous even when they themselves have nothing. It makes me sick sometimes."

Ginji thought he heard the young man's teeth grinding in anger before he spoke again. "I've wanted to find you so much, that need to see you so strong it burned me. I never stopped thinking about you. Though much of that thinking was what I would do when we did actually meet. I don't think I ever imagined this. Not here. It's tough living on the outside. But I never thought you would actually go down so easily. I hate seeing you like this."

Ginji simply stared at the young man, unable to react in any rational manner. That a treasured friend he had believed for many years to be dead, murdered by the faceless of the Belt Line, was currently standing over his bleeding broken body as an enemy was horribly terrifying.

"Shuu . . ." he implored meekly.

The young man sucked in another drag before speaking again. "Why? You and the Volts were everything to me. But you just left like we meant nothing. Like you could just cast us off for something better, even when we needed you." He paused to think. "But you seemed so much like I remembered you when you came back . . . I was furious at the time, but I think I could have forgiven you then. I know I would have. But I'll never forgive you now, Ginji-san."

Tears were sliding down his face and he had refused to look Ginji in the eyes as he spoke.

"Shuu, listen, I never meant to hurt you like this. Things were happening when I came back, awful things. Everyone's life was in danger then. I-I know I couldn't save you . . . I'm sorry for that . . ." Ginji wanted so badly to continue, to say comforting things, excuses, anything, but the shock had hardly worn off and he was grasping for meaningful words. "But please don't do this."

Shuu was visibly troubled, not sure whether or not to listen to his former idol's plea. He sniffed wetly and ran the back of his hand roughly across his eyes in an attempt to calm his emotions and stay his tears. He shook his head. "You destroyed me."

"No, we can solve this somehow. I'm not mad. I want to help you," Ginji said, unable to turn his attention fully away from his own physical agony.

"Shut up!" Shuu suddenly exclaimed. "Don't try to change my mind . . . I've already made a decision. And I hate you."

Ginji could tell Shuu did not entirely believe this proclamation, but the kid was an emotional wreck and very willing to do rash things. "Shuu," he began again, "there isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel sad for things that happened in the past. I can't sleep at night very often. I've always remembered you."

He had expected a crowd of curious onlookers to have gathered by now. Even a drunk passerby stopping for a possible spectacle. He could feel eyes upon them. Someone was definitely watching the scene, though when he looked about he could find no one.

Shuu was oblivious. "But you never seemed concerned about whether or not there was a funeral for me, did you?"

"You're wrong!" Ginji was mortified at the thought of simply brushing off a friend's death. "I've been in touch with friends. MakubeX, everyone. No one could find you. They looked." What Ginji spoke was the truth. There had never been a funeral because his body was never found. But a missing dead body in Mugenjou was not all that strange.

Shuu snorted bitterly. "They didn't care."

Ginji felt tears of his own begin to slip from the corners of his eyes. "Shuu, your friends loved you. They would want to know that you're still alive! We can go back together."

Flicking his cigarette away, Shuu stood and moved as if to simply walk away, but stopped after several paces to gaze at the moon. "And then what? You would just leave again. Everyone would leave me, eventually. I can't bear that. I couldn't see their faces now . . . it would kill me."

"I never left you behind the way you think I did," Ginji said and struggled again to sit up while Shuu's back was turned, "not you or anyone. But I had to leave, for the same reasons that you left, Shuu. I felt it too. It was destroying me. But I would never have left if I thought you weren't strong. I believed in you guys."

Shuu faced the sitting retriever again and silently gazed at him for a few moments. Though the tension in those moments made it feel like it had lasted months. Shuu had made a decision. "How can I change my mind now? How can I compromise the thoughts that beat in my head these last few years?" His voice had elevated alarmingly until he was nearly screaming. "How can you think that such an impossible offer will trick me into forgetting everything!?""

Whatever Ginji had feared was now hurtling toward him. Whatever action Shuu decided to execute now would steal the sight from his eyes, the breath from his lungs. The deep dark regions of his mind could feel it and mentally, subconsciously, he began to numb himself. But that helplessness also screamed silently for aid, as any creature in the grip of fear would do, for something either divine or mortal to appear and rescue him. Anything.

Shuu's voice was calmer now, but deadliness had increased with its softness. "I'm sorry too, Ginji, but I have only this reason to be alive since that day. Maybe we'll see each other again in Hell."

Ginji's eyes closed as he summoned every shred of his power to release in a blind lash of hope. It welled before bursting from all around him in bolts of electric blue that briefly squelched the darkness with dazzling light. When it had faded, and exhaustion and pain thundered in his skull, Ginji heard a muffled groan. A short laugh followed. He opened his eyes.

Shuu must have turned to avoid the attack head-on. He stood clasping his right upper arm, which was smoking faintly. A scarlet burn marred the same side of his face and from it there was blood running down his throat. "Good," he said almost breathlessly, "I'm glad that you still have some fight in you. I was getting worried."

He let go of his arm and blood drizzled grotesquely from the wound carved into it. Slowly, he reached around and drew a knife from his back pocket. The metal of its blade glowed with the neon pink sign's reflection.

Ginji's started. "Stop it, Shuu!"

The shy, innocent face he had known in the past had contorted into a seething mask of rage bent on nothing more than primal bloodlust. Shuu's eyed widened as his mouth opened in a snarling growl. Ginji watched Shuu's first steps that were no doubt taken in a run, but everything that he saw then dwindled to unnaturally slow motion. The knife was being drawn higher and higher until the neon glow was replaced by the sadistic smile of the glittering moon. Stars seemed to blaze through the city lights and smog like the eyes of deathly angels waiting to be the first to jump out and claim his soul for their own.

He watched all of this with a clear mind, yet he could not truly comprehend anything. Those stars seemed to grow brighter and brighter above Shuu's head as he waited. The knife was coming down. It descended closer. But the blade and the snarling face of its wielder were too close, dropping at the same. And yet Shuu's body was too far away . . .

The sudden spray of blood that rose into the air to transform the twinkling diamonds into rubies was supernatural. Ginji watched it with unblinking eyes; he couldn't blink if he tried. The knife had fallen against his chest and he felt the blade tear into his skin like a molten talon. But something heavy had landed into his lap as well. Something leaking torrents of sticky warmth.

Ginji's chin fell to his chest automatically. Shuu was staring back up at him, those eyes an expression of rage and surprise alike. His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked as though his teeth would shatter in his face. The blood drenching Ginji's thighs startled him into terrible shock.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was screaming. He couldn't hear it, but could feel it ripping from his throat, his vocal cords shredding with the effort.

His hands had begun to shake violently as they gripped either side of Shuu's severed head and lifted it to his face. Tears flowed in gushes when he touched the still-warm forehead to his own. Choking, he crushed the head to his chest in a tight embrace, wailing in grief. His own pain was lost to him then, even though the knife wound was still flowing alarmingly fast.

Somebody was standing over him. His eyes were too tear blurred to see, but his anger could not overpower his grief and he remained as he was, rocking and moaning with the bleeding object clutched in his hands. But when a hand clasped around his wrist to pull him away, he became completely enraged. The powerful, instinctive anger that birthed supernatural powers unlike the normal ones within him now flowed strongly throughout his body like a burst dam.

Ginji jumped up to his feet as if he had never been injured at all, letting Shuu's head fall forgotten to the ground. His breath was deep and ragged and he tensely braced himself, veins of electricity worming around him.

A silhouette just off to his side came into focus and Ginji lashed out immediately. The figure had dodged it, and now stood uncomfortably close to his back. The blonde turned quickly, ready to throw his fist into that person's face as hard as he could, but his hand was caught and yanked painfully down behind his back. Ginji howled in pain and fury before a tiny prick sent an awful chill up his spine. The sensation disappeared almost as soon as it had come, however, and his arm was released.

Seizing the opportunity, the retriever whipped about to tackle his second assailant, to take him down and murder him right then and there, but his body was quickly becoming heavy. He swung to grab the figure, but only air met his arm before he began to fall. He waited for the hard concrete to greet his face with a harsh kiss, but something firm and steady had caught him about the waist. With intense grogginess that swept over him like a swarm of hungry locusts, he stared at the blood on the ground that glistened morbidly with tones of pink. Sour vomit was burning a path up toward his mouth just as he passed out.

* * *

When Ginji came to, he could hardly adjust his eyes to take in where he was currently laying. There was a fluorescent light directly above him, making his tired, dilated eyes water with stress. He squinted against the harsh light and tilted his head to the side to try to make out shapes within the room.

The walls were stark white all around, and there was a gray chair set before a white cupboard with glass doors full of boxes and shining metal objects across the room. A sink basin with a long curved spout stood mounted to the wall next to that. The door caught his eye next, and he wondered if he should just make a run for it. But when he tried to sit up it felt as though lodestones were pressing him down over every limb, and he felt alarmingly numb as well, but for the precise pain of his cuts and bruises.

It was then that he became aware of his state of undress. The plain white sheet that covered him was thin, and even though he could hardly feel at all, he could tell that it was rather cool in the room. Having always been modest to a fault, he blushed and tried to wriggle the sheet farther up his shoulders. After failing pathetically, Ginji gave up and rotated his head to study the other side of the room.

A long operation table stood very close to him, and he could see that there were various instruments set pristinely upon it over a shield of white paper cloth. He stared at them with a growing sense of unease, realizing that he must be in a hospital. That meant that someone had dragged him here. But there was no one in the room but himself, and the silence was too loud.

Breathing out a sigh, he leaned his head back into the strange neck brace that curved up around either side of his face. The glaring light hummed above and flickered as if to speak to him, and Ginji rested his eyelids.

He wondered what time it was. Had Ban woken and discovered his absence yet? He would be worried. Ginji wished he could call him at least. The longing he felt to see a familiar face just then brought back memories of his confrontation. He again saw Shuu's head bleeding in his lap, that face fixed in anger and shock. Ginji's breath hitched at the vivid image and he tried to bring his hands up to cover his eyes from the light, but to no avail. Suddenly terrified and grief-stricken, Ginji screamed out into the bare, sterile room.

A gentle creak followed shortly after and Ginji watched the door swing open slowly. A black leg came through first, followed by a tall body clothed in a white doctor's coat and black tie. The man held a clipboard in one rather pale hand as he entered the room, and Ginji simply stared at him. The real contrasting point in that room was the extreme black of his hair, which was oddly long for a doctor, though it was slicked back away from his face. As the man drew a bit closer, Ginji noticed from a sudden glint of glass that he wore a pair of spectacles, and would have looked very professional and trustworthy, but the smile hugging his lips was off.

Ginij squinted harder to get a better look at the doctor's face before closing them tightly and fighting in vain to thrash from the bed.

"Please calm down, Ginji-kun, you're still under a heavy dosage of anesthetics right now. Honestly, you're always such a struggler." The voice was filled with eerie delight.

Ginji wanted to cry. "Why are _you_ here?" he asked in desperation. Of all people, why did it have to be him?

Akabane set the clipboard down on the cupboard ledge before yanking the chair over to seat himself at the blonde's side. "I was just passing by on the street when I heard your voice. It was curious, so went to observe. It's most fortunate for you that I did. Yes, it would have been terribly disappointing if you had died like that."

Ginji had been staring at Akabane with his mouth slightly agape. It was like being in some parallel dimension, seeing the murderer cast out of his shrouding black coat and into dazzling white. He looked like a real doctor, immaculate and intelligent, which made Ginji incredibly uneasy. Though he couldn't speak, what Akabane had said was creeping around his mind. When it came to a halt, he was furious.

"Was it you? Did you do that to Shuu!?" Ginji cried.

Akabane only smiled in a vaguely reassuring manner as he gently said, "He was going to kill you."

Tears burned behind his eyes as he glared at the homicidal doctor, knowing he was right. But that didn't matter. There was no reason that such a cruel, violent action had to be taken.

The man in white continued. "You were out of control and making your condition worse. So I had no choice but to bring you here." He leaned in closer, seeing the young man's doubt, and said very softly and slowly, as if he were recalling some sensual memory. "You were drenched in blood, Ginji-kun . . . every part of you. I hardly recognized you at all."

"How can you help me?" Ginji snarled. "You can't be a real doctor."

Akabane smiled broadly and leaned back, removing his spectacles. He held them loosely between his fingers and met his patient's eyes with his own narrow, icy gaze. "Oh but I assure you I am. I just don't work officially anymore. There were . . . incidents . . . in the past. But I remember everything just as well as I did then."

He stood then and pushed the chair away before reaching out to take up a pair of latex gloves from the table. He pulled them on with a snap, a mysterious shimmer in his eyes. "Now that you're fully conscious, we can begin."

Ginji's eyes widened in alarm. What was this man thinking? "What are you talking about?" he asked in a panic.

"You need stitches," Akabane said factually.

Ginji tried to shake his head. "No! Don't come near me!"

The black-haired man pressed a gloved finger to his lips and breathed, "Shhh."

"You're crazy! I can't fight back!" the blonde protested.

Akabane smiled and began to thread a long needle. "I'd be lying if I said it wouldn't hurt a bit. But you mustn't worry. I have no other intention than to keep you alive. It's important that you heal properly if I'm ever to fight you again." He chuckled like a child behind closed lips.

More pleas tumbled off of Ginji's lips, but all that was lost to him when he felt the needle pierce the flesh of his chest where the severity of the knife wound practically glowed when revealed to the hard light. The needle was being pressed in too deep, and he tightened his jaw in an attempt to shell a scream.

He felt the thick string being pulled through his skin with a grimace before it stopped with a sharp tug. The stick came again, deep and far too slow, and what he had always assumed to be a simple and relatively quick procedure became sheer torture. His tears couldn't be held in any longer when he felt his blood flow again.

The deliberately drawn-out movements paused and Akabane ran a blood-wetted finger against Ginji's cheek, smearing red into his tears. He almost sounded sympathetic when he drawled, "Does it hurt, Ginji-kun?"

The retriever refused to open his eyes. "How can you be so cruel?"

"Ah, I am truly sorry about your former friend. I understand that it was a shock for you, but it was necessary, just as this is." Akabane said and resumed his work.

Ginji ground his teeth hard and managed to say, "You didn't have to kill him. Not like that."

Akabane didn't reply. His concentration was fixed on his work, occasionally breaking only to watch the expressions of pain on his patient's face with satisfaction.

Fighting desperately to make his mind blank to minimize the suffering that threatened to swallow him, Ginji focused on the hollow silence of the room. He could still hear the slick, easy sliding of string through the fragile barrier of flesh no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. He heard his surgeon's breathing and knew for sure that Akabane was enjoying this. It was easy to figure out why the man was forced to resign as a doctor.

When the stitching was finally over and the blood was blotted away, Ginji braved his eyelids apart. Akabane was watching him, lifting a delicate finger to his mouth. The blonde observed with nausea as his blood was passed slowly over the man's sleek tongue. Akabane smirked, apparently pleased with whatever he had confirmed. Then he walked to the sink and began to rinse the blood from his gloved hands.

Breathing heavily, Ginji discovered that the drugs that had been administered to him were fading and he could move now. He sat up, wincing sharply when the string zigzagging over his chest pulled taut in protest. He grabbed the sheet and clutched it close to his body before moving his legs to hang over the edge of the operation table. His head throbbed with dull but urgent pain, and bringing a hand up to touch it, he realized that there was still glass in his hair.

"I wouldn't suggest you strain yourself right now. And I'll get to that," Akabane said, now approaching him again and gesturing at the blonde's head.

"It's fine. I think I can manage now. Just let me go," Ginji offered.

The doctor laughed quietly. "I can't do that. Not yet, anyway."

The blonde groaned. "Please, Akabane-san. I can't take this anymore. Let me call Ban to come and get me."

The older man put his cool hands on his patient's shoulders and made Ginji lay back down. "In time. I can't send you out with glass embedded in your scalp now, can I?"

This was more than he could bear. Every second in that strange place made him feel like he was on the verge of going insane. "I don't want to be here anymore. I can't take this!"

Akabane retrieved the rolling chair again and brought it up to the head of the table. "I'd be more than happy to restrain you, if that would help."

Ginji wanted to curse the man vehemently. But he held his tongue and endured the sensation of Akabane's long fingers fanning out on either side of his head to position him. The release of the first piece of glass was almost as painful as the strike of the bottle had been. Tired and frustrated, he growled out loud in pain and agitation.

"Ah, yes, that's more like it," the doctor all but purred. "You've been holding back."

"You're sick," Ginji accused.

Akabane laughed softly and leaned close to Ginji's ear, whispering, "And you are stubborn, but so very beautiful stained in blood." Before Ginji could reply he straightened to resume his task and said, "You're lucky there isn't much glass. This won't take long so please just relax."

The blonde snorted, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. No nightmare could ever compare to this. However, Akabane wasn't lying and before he knew it, it was all over.

Ginji listened to the splash of water again and suddenly wanted to drown in tears. He wanted to see Ban, his friends. He wanted to tell them that they meant everything to him, that he was grateful for having them. He was the cause of so much suffering, so much needless despair, and it made his heart ache.

He was crying now, totally oblivious to everything but the dark heaviness in his mind and heart. He couldn't fully comprehend the gloveless hands that smoothed over his cheeks with the same tender care of a parent. Didn't notice the amethyst eyes studying him without coldness or calculation from above. But when the hands left him, it seemed that all his warmth went with them and he was completely alone.

He wasn't sure how long he had been there in the grip of despair, sobbing under a cruel light. But his awareness jumped slightly at the sound of a door opening and footsteps running toward him. A familiar voice was calling his name, imploring him to acknowledge it. Ginji obeyed, and breathed brokenly in relief.

Ban was standing over him, staring down at him with incredibly concerned eyes. "Are you alright!? Did that bastard hurt you?" His voice was filled with fright.

Ginji shook his head weakly and reached out with both arms. He was rewarded with a rush of pain when Ban fell into his embrace, but he didn't care. No amount of physical pain could have compelled him right then.

"Ban-chan, I have to tell you that you mean so much to me. Without you, I don't know what kind of person I'd have become. I love you." He held the startled brunette so tightly it felt as though his stitches might have ripped apart, but that hardly mattered.

"Ginji, what happened to you? What is this all about?" Ban pressed, easing his friend's arms away. He stayed close, examining wounds to be sure they weren't critical. "I woke up and you weren't there, and then that psycho Akabane called me and told me to come and get you. Do you know how freaked out I was?"

"Please don't be mad," Ginji implored, "let's just go home."

Ban studied him for a moment with a sort of skepticism before nodding. He helped Ginji dress back into the bloodstained clothes that had been stashed on a shelf beneath the operating table, holding his breath the entire time. With an arm around the blonde's waist, Ban led Ginji out of the room.

Ginji was astounded by the change in atmosphere outside the door. It was obviously a small hospital that had not been used in years. There was little light to guide them and every door along the hallway was shut tight and locked, silent on the opposite side. It was quiet and dark, and had the atmosphere of being haunted enough to shake even one with nerves of steel.

The sun had only recently begun to rise, staining the sky in oranges and reds like spilled juice. The Volkswagen was waiting just outside, and the familiar sensation of its seat was bliss on Ginji's bruised skin.

While Ban made his way around to the other side, Ginji stared at the streaks of red throughout the sky above the inconspicuous building to which the eccentric ex-doctor no doubt claimed ownership. He wasn't sure how to feel. He wanted so badly to positively hate Akabane for what he had done, but somehow he just couldn't do it. His bitter emotions became for himself alone.

As they drove through the sparsely bustling streets, Ginji told Ban everything that had happened. He said that he wanted to have a real funeral for Shuu, and that all his friends would surely agree.

Once they made it inside, Ginji began to tear away the ruined clothing from his body. The stains made him ill, and he just wanted to get them out of his sight. Ban insisted that Ginji should take it easy, that that lunatic's stitching should be looked at by a real doctor, that they should just call the police. The blonde just smiled weakly and told Ban to stop worrying so much.

As he crumpled his shorts to toss away, he heard the distinct sound of paper in one of the pockets. Curious, he extracted a folded note on unlined paper that he was sure hadn't been there before. Ban stood looking over his shoulder to see what it was as he unfolded it and began to read.

The handwriting was beautiful and stylistic, but legible. It was a note to Ginji stating that his friend's body had been delivered to Mugenjou and into MakubeX's care. Funds for a decent funeral service had been delivered as well, and that all Ginji had to do was to arrange it with his friends. The note was unsigned.

"Unbelievable," Ban said.

Ginji was stunned beyond words, even a simple expression of amazement and gratitude wouldn't come to mind. Though there was no signature, he knew that this was Akabane's doing, and was certain that there was no falsity to its content. He let the note drop to the floor.

Ban had put a comforting hand on his shoulder and Ginji was finally able to speak. "Why would he do this?"

Ban shrugged. "Who knows. The guy's impossible to figure out."

"Can we go to Mugenjou? Today?" Ginji asked, hopeful.

Shaking his head, Ban led his partner to the bed and made the blonde lay down. "Tomorrow, maybe. You need to sleep now. Okay?"

"Promise we can go tomorrow," Ginji pleaded, eyes wide.

The brunette sighed through his nose, his expression softening like butter under a lamp. "Okay. Promise." He planted a kiss on Ginji's forehead and told him to just ask if he needed anything.

Ginji's answer was a sudden hand curled around Ban's wrist, pulling him down into the bed with him. "Just stay with me."

They laid quietly together, as tangled in each other's limbs as possible given Ginji's wounds. When it seemed that Ban had fallen asleep Ginji looked at him, and he thought once again about everything that had happened, how surreal it all was.

Running his fingers lightly over the woven threads holding the knife wound closed in his chest, Ginji knew that Shuu would have killed himself once he had killed Ginji. It was a strange certainty within him. He had heard the depthless despair in his friend's voice; Shuu had given up long ago. He couldn't truly resent Akabane for what he did, as horrible as it was, it was still a kind of liberation for the poor kid.

Ginji pressed his face into the curve of Ban's throat and closed his eyes.

"It wasn't your fault," Ban said softly, having been awake the entire time. "People have to deal with tragedies all the time, there's nothing we can do about that. But if it weren't for you there would be many more who would have lived in unhappiness. Don't ever think that what happened to him was your fault. There are too many people that feel you're important and sincerely care for you. Got it?"

Ginji stared half lidded at Ban's smooth neck and nodded once. Arms circled about him and held him tightly until he fell into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
